PYRA AND THE TEKTITES

by Rebecca Melanie Sunquist

Part 5: The Elastic Aquarium

"Bad luck, Skinny," said Flanagan. He held out a harness for securing cargo, and Pyra slipped into it, glowering back at Ichthia. He tightened the buckles and straps, then wadded some loose packing material to cushion her against the bulkhead. "You're a brave kid, but that was almost a really bad mistake. Ichthia was going to leave you behind, and if Mark the Shark had caught you, he might have sold you anywhere. Or worse."

"People don't buy people," grumbled Pyra. She rubbed her arm where the rough fabric of the harness had abraded her skin.

"Everyone is bought. It's just a question of the terms of the purchase agreement. For example, I'm indentured for the next year. I get to clean out the stables, so to speak." He glanced up at Ichthia. "Isn't that right?"

Ichthia, apparently satisfied with the security arrangements, smiled grimly at them, then turned to make for the bridge. Pyra stuck her tongue out at the departing lime green outsuit and orange hair. "What about me? What's scullery?"

"Think of it as chores your parents insist that you do."

"Oh, like cleaning my room?"

Flanagan laughed. "More like transporting garbage from the galley to the recike hold," he said. "Scrubbing grime off bulkheads. Messy stuff. Hang on, we're leaving dock."

The brief acceleration pressed them against the rear bulkhead. The harnesses held them in place after the Mockingbird had passed from the effects of Kublukan's artificial gravity, and Pyra, whose stomach was still empty, gave an unpleasant growl. She wished she had accepted Energie Davenport's offer of food and drink, even if it was freeze-dried. And something else Energie had said...

"Flanagan, why does Ichthia buy children?"

"Because they are small, I expect." He closed his eyes and stretched out on the deck as far as the harness would allow.

"Small?" When Flanagan did not respond, Pyra punched his shoulder. "Why does their size matter?"

"You'll see. Get some sleep. After this, you sleep when she lets you, not when you want to."

"Are you gonna get us out of this?"

"Dunno," muttered Flanagan.

"Well...if it's only for a year..."

Flanagan sighed. "A Ceres year, Pyra. That's four and a half years. Didn't they teach you anything in school?"

Pyra smiled. At least he hadn't called her Skinny.

********

How long she had slept, Pyra had no idea. In one minute she was dreaming of a soft futon in her parent's Presidential Warren, with the smell of hot cocoa wafting all around her. In the next, Lay By was toeing her awake.

"That's enough," snapped Flanagan.

Pyra rubbed sleep from her eyes. Artificial gravity had returned, and she stood up slowly, with the bulkhead for support, while Lay By relieved her of the harness. Flanagan was already free.

"You'll be coming with me to the farms," Lay By told him. "You know the rules. Work well to be treated well."

By now Pyra was on the verge of panic. "What happens if he doesn't work well?" She tugged at Lay By's sleeve. "Hey! What hap---"

"Silence, girl," growled Ichthia.

"I'll be all right, Pyra. Go with her."

And before she could respond, Lay By escorted Flanagan down the ramp and out of sight.

Heart pounding now, Pyra looked at Ichthia. What had begun as a simple flight to avoid being yelled at for poor grades had now become serious, perhaps deadly serious. At one point Pyra had expected to be "found" by one of her father's security patrols. Not now. Ichthia might possess one of the most interesting sights the Asteroid Belt had to offer, her Aquarium, but she was also in league with the Tektites. Pyra did not know very much about the Tektites, except that her father fought them and hated them, and that therefore they must be bad. She had mixed feelings about Ichthia, but right now terror was winning.

"Let's get you cleaned up," said Ichthia. "Then we'll put you to work."

Work well to be treated well, Lay By had said. Pyra decided to change the subject. "Will I be allowed to see the Aquarium?" she asked, as they walked down the ramp.

"Look around you."

They had reached the end of the ramp, which lay on a glistening surface that yielded slightly under their weight. It reminded Pyra of a water bed...except that it was transparent. Under her feet she saw globes of light, and currents of water, and...

"Omigod! Those are fish!" Pyra punctuated this observation with a squeal of delight.

"A school of Danio, I suspect," said Ichthia, tugging Pyra along. "They prefer warm water, and they're surface feeders. With the light here, they think this is the surface."

They came to a halt in the middle of the chamber in which the Mockingbird had docked, and Pyra looked around, feeling as if she were locked inside a bubble. How had they gotten in here? And how could they get out? Above her, below her, and to all sides swam fish, some clear because they were close to the surface, some indistinct. And some were huge shadows lurking behind the globes of light.

"Is that a shark?" asked Pyra, pointing up at one of the shadows.

A note of amusement crept into Ichthia's tone. To Pyra, she sounded almost friendly. "A tuna, probably. They avoid the surfaces. But we do have several small sharks, yes. None more than a meter long, and they aren't in the main seas. I keep them in private reservoirs. They're my pets."

Even as Ichthia spoke, something swooped up from the darker regions to engulf a fingerling that lingered too long near one of the globes of light.

"Come, girl," said Ichthia. "I'm glad you're interested in my fish. Perhaps you're suited for something other than scullery, after all."

Pyra allowed herself to be led toward a limp flap of clear plastic that Ichthia unfastened and held open for her. Inside was a tunnel through the sea. Ahead, it curved, and Pyra was unable to see the end of it, but along both sides of the tunnel were other flaps, these rigid and opaque and secured, and set about ten meters apart. Pyra remembered the tunnels on Kublukan and the warrens.

"Do people live in there?" she asked. The elastic surface continued to yield slightly under her feet, but she was getting used to that now, and kept her balance.

"Those are the feeding and harvesting locks," explained Ichthia. "The feeders wear wet gear and oh-two tanks, and climb into the water locks with bags of dried algae and other proteins, and release them into the water. They also take test samples, which help us to control the pH...the salinity of the water. We have both fresh water and salt water seas...is something wrong, girl?"

"I'm to be a feeder, then, aren't I?"

"You're just the right size. But that's up to you. Scullery, or feeding."

"Is it dangerous?"

"It can be," answered Ichthia, looking very severe now, "if you fail to follow instructions. If you don't pay attention to what you're doing."

"You said harvesting, too."

Ichthia opened one of the rigid hatches and ushered Pyra inside. The bubble chamber was furnished with a bench of molded blue plastic, a table, and a sleeping pad. It was not much larger than Energie Davenport's warren. Water flowed all around them, and made the chamber appear to move. Pyra approached the wall and pushed her hand against it. The surface yielded only a little. Through the transparent material she spotted several small dark fish. They seemed to be within arm's reach.

"How thick is this?" asked Pyra.

"Half a meter," said Ichthia. "It's strong enough to contain the water, but it won't collapse, if that's what is worrying you. We're quite safe in here. Come and sit down." She nudged a small bowl toward Pyra. "These are protein flakes. You may not like them, but they're nutritious, and quite good for you."

"Is that what I'll feed to the fish?"

"The same sort of food, yes. This was engineered for human consumption, of course. Please, sit down."

"I'm not hungry."

"I can hear your stomach from here. Please, sit down."

Pyra hesitated. "Is that all there is to eat?"

Before Ichthia could answer, an alarm sounded. Immediately the woman scrambled to her feet and drew a comm from one of her pockets. "Tell me!" she ordered, and listened. "Confirm the automatic seals in Sectors Seven and Eight. Filter the floodwater for fish and have them processed. I'm on my way." To Pyra she added tersely, "You stay here. Under no circumstances do you open this hatch once I seal it. Understand?"

Pyra gulped, and nodded. What was happening?

"We've had a shard strike. One of the reservoirs was punctured. There may be some flooding. I have to oversee security and repairs."

Flanagan, thought Pyra.

At the hatch, Ichthia paused, and turned back around. For just a moment, her eyes seemed kind. "This sort of thing happens about once every fifty days or so. It's never routine, but we can handle it."

"Wait..."

"Well, then? Hurry up!"

"Flanagan---"

"I don't know," said Ichthia. "The farms are in Sector Eight. When I know, I'll tell you." She left, sealing the hatch behind her.

For long seconds Pyra stared at the closed hatch, feeling trapped and helpless. Flanagan had to be okay, because without him she had no hope of ever leaving this place. But what if he needed help? There had to be something she could do. And she knew enough to stay out of the way. The hatch would open at a touch of the pad on the wall beside it, as Ichthia had done just before she left. She could leave...

Gathering courage, Pyra walked to the hatch and put her hand on the pad. The hatch released, and swung open on hinges. Pyra stuck her head through to see if anyone was watching. To the left, the direction of the docking chamber, there was no one. But from the right came a dull, soft sound, and she turned to look.

A wall of water was rushing along the tunnel at her.

Don’t Miss PYRA AND THE TEKTITES, PART 6: ‘INUNDATED!’ appearing on this site on 10 November 2002.

PYRA AND THE TEKTITES appears EXCLUSIVELY on the AOIFE’S KISS/KISSES FOR KIDS sites courtesy of prize-winning writer Rebecca Melanie Sunquist.